Further Encounters of the Pirate Kind
by Padfoots-Pirate
Summary: Sequel to Close Encounters of the Pirate Kind. Ever want to hear the full story of the first time Jack was marooned? Here it is, told from the POV of possibly the one woman Jack's ever loved.
1. Default Chapter

Disclaimer: I own nothing. I wish I did. Sadly, that is not the case. If I actually owned the rights to POTC, I would have better things to do than write fanfiction. Like insist to Orlando Bloom that he needs to practice his future makeout scenes with someone, and I'm as good a person as any. sigh  
  
Chapter 1:  
  
Whenever I walk past the docks, I always expect to see him. Yes, I know it's ridiculous, foolish even, but something inside me wants him to come back. The harder I try not to, the more those feelings nag at me and now, three years later, I still feel a deep sinking in my heart when I look to the sea.  
  
I suppose I ought to get over it sooner or later. Really, I should. I'm to be married in two days and I shouldn't be spending all my time thinking about someone who I hardly knew three years ago.  
  
But it's not like it'll make a difference, anyway.  
  
I was walking home from the market with my fiancée's sister, Jessica, when we passed the docks. As was my custom, I slowed my pace, eyes roaming up and down the planks looking for someone.  
  
Jessica continued walking, as our unspoken agreement dictated. She knew I would catch up to her after my fruitless searchings. My wandering eyes swept the docks, looking for a mass of dark hair, or faded and well-worn trousers hidden beneath a tattered coat.  
  
Hopelessness and defeat, now familiar, set in once again, and I turned to follow Jessica home, wallowing in my own nostalgia for the short time I had spent aboard the Black Pearl.  
  
I was halfway home by the time the memories, which tended to linger stubbornly, had been replaced by thoughts of the upcoming wedding. The wedding wasn't exactly something I wanted to be thinking about, but my parents were pushing me to marry, so I had to. I was halfway up the steps when I realized I had walked home alone, with no trace of Jessica at all.  
  
When I got inside, the faint noise of footsteps pacing downstairs reached me. "Jessica?" I called out, "Why didn't you wait for me?" I reached the bottom of the spiral staircase, expecting my future sister in law... but she was nowhere to be seen.  
  
Spots of mud, splattered on the wood floor, led to a man in the center of the armory. He grinned. "Why, hello, love."  
  
Every remote trace of thought escaped my mind immediately. He looked different, more world-weary. His hair was longer, extending to the place where neck met jaw. A coat of stubble was now present where he used to be clean shaven. Dark kohl gave his eyes a more hooded look.  
  
He waved his hand around to draw attention to himself. "You miss me?" he asked, grin waning.  
  
An unseen magnetism pulled me toward him. My legs took steps toward him; my head, acting completely of its own accord, tilted up toward his. My lips took firm hold of his, and kissed him hard and passionately.  
  
I felt my brain regain its authority of my body. I immediately yanked my face away from him, and punched him squarely in the mouth that I had, moments before, been attached to, berating myself mentally.  
  
He brought a finger up to his lower lip and drew it away, to discover he was bleeding. "I'm not sure I deserved that, love." He wiped the trace of blood from his lip on his trousers.  
  
My nostrils flared involuntarily with rage. My face was flaming. I started shouting, perhaps more loudly that was necessary. "'Not sure you deserved that'?!" I asked. "You'd better be damned sure you deserved it! You're bloody lucky I don't carry knives with me anymore, Sparrow!" By now I was apoplectic with ire. "You just show up, out of the blue, for the first time in years, and expect a warm welcome?! That's funny, considering the last thing you said to me! You think that I'd be happy to see you, when last time we spoke, you were refusing to tell me how you felt, right after I opened up to you!" My voice was straining from screaming at him. "What the bloody hell is wrong with you?!"  
  
The pirate in front of me was putting up his hands in a gesture of surrender, and backing away slowly. The cut on his lip was oozing a trickle of blood.  
  
"Alright, you've made your point," he said easily. "I suppose you have reason to be upset with me."  
  
"Do you really think so?" I asked, glaring. "You know something, Jack?" I paused and shook my head. "Never mind. Just leave. I'm getting married day after tomorrow. I can't go through with it if I know you're still around. And I have to. I have to marry him." I chewed on my bottom lip and looked away.  
  
"Do you really have to, love? You could come with me, and leave this fiancée of yours behind," he mused.  
  
I lacked the bravery to look him in the eye. "Just go."  
  
His hands rested on his sword hilt. "Only if you make me."  
  
I heaved a great sigh and massaged my temples. "Why do you insist on being difficult, Sparrow?"  
  
He winked. "It's part of my charm." Leaning closer, he whispered, "You know you can't resist me."  
  
I silently crossed the room, cogitating over a rack containing several swords. I gave him a look of warning before disappearing behind a screen. Through the thin screen, a pacing silhouette was visible.  
  
"Give me a moment, Sparrow," I called to the pirate, all the while changing into a pair of breeches and a loose fitting tunic.  
  
I heard him mumble, "Captain Sparrow... how many times..." and I couldn't help but smile. Emerging from behind the dressing screen, the room was so silent that the only noises were my heart beating loudly in my ears, nearly drowning out the soft rustle of loose cotton breeches, shifting with Sparrow's agitated movements.  
  
I slowly drew my favorite sword from a rack, a simple steel blade with a twisted band of copper braided into the hilt. Jack looked at me warily, trying to figure out what I was doing with a sword. Last time our blades had crossed, he had beaten me awfully.  
  
Sparrow looked at me incredulously and began to laugh. "Let me ask you something. How many times do I have to beat you before I convince you that you won't win?"  
  
My face was growing hot with anger once again. Oh, how this man could provoke me. I lunged at him; he deflected my blow with ease.  
  
"If I win, you leave and never bother me again." I stared at him down the length of my blade.  
  
"And if I win?" he asked suggestively.  
  
I grinned coldly. "You won't."  
  
He smirked back. My arm was going slack with the weight of the sword. He came at me suddenly, catching me unprepared. The steel sang as it whipped through the air; slashing, hacking, stabbing. I barely leapt out of the way of a blow that could have sheared my arm off.  
  
His dark eyes were blazing. Our eyes were locked as we circled; lashing suddenly at each other with sword tips, each taunting the other to strike first.  
  
Beads of sweat began to pour down my face, and kept dripping into my eyes. I chopped at Jack, and used the moment he took to recover to wipe the perspiration from my face. I was too slow, however.  
  
He sliced at my chest, the tip of his sword grazed my shirt, tearing it wide open. He grinned at me; a great deal of my breasts were visible to him.  
  
Jaw clenched in rage, I utilized the momentary distraction to tackle him, running at a dead sprint, nearly spearing myself on his sword. I sent him toppling to the floor; scrambled backwards, trying to get up. I took two long strides, bringing me directly in front of him, and pressed the tip of my sword into his neck.  
  
He looked at me in awe. "Well, you certainly have improved, love. Although that was a bit of dirty fighting on your part," he told me, extending a hand so I could help him up.  
  
I grasped his fingers, and he sprang up, slashing toward me. I only got my sword back up just in time to keep from losing an ear. "You're one to talk about dirty fighting, Sparrow!" I hissed, swinging wildly at him. He bounded back in one agile movement, effortlessly avoiding my blade.  
  
I rushed at him again, hoping to catch him by surprise. He caught my swing above his head; our hilts locked. Our arms were suspended above our heads, leaving me directly face to face with him. Grinning, he looked down the gaping slit in my shirt. He raked his gaze slowly upward to my eyes and I felt my heart stutter. His eyes were laughing, as though at some private joke. The heat of a blush crept up to my cheeks, coloring them scarlet. Concentrating all of my strength in my arms, I shoved him away from me.  
  
A ring sounded as my sword struck against his. I pivoted sharply, catching him unaware, disarming him. His blade clattered as it fell to the floor. A shocked look replaced the joking one. My level stare met his.  
  
He bit his bottom lip for a moment, thinking. "You must really want me to leave," he mused. "Or, could you just be afraid of what you might do if I stay?"  
  
I jerked my head in the direction of the window. "We had an agreement, Sparrow. I win, and you leave." His grin faded. Nodding, he retrieved his sword.  
  
"Just so you know, love: we leave the day after tomorrow. My offer still stands. We could use you on board the Pearl," he winked, took one last look at my exposed cleavage, and climbed out the window, nimble as a cat.  
  
I spent the rest of the day in a daze, wondering why he came back, why he wanted me to go with him, and why his return suddenly turned me into a bundle of nerves about the wedding. That night was wrought with fitful sleep, having nightmares about showing up to the wedding naked. I woke feeling sick and nauseous.  
  
Thomas, my fiancée, was joining us for dinner that evening. My mother was on edge all day, primping and ordering servants around, trying to make everything perfect. The house was pure chaos, and the aromas of roast lamb and soap combined to form a salty sweet scent that made me sick to my stomach. Everything had to be perfect. My mother wouldn't settle for anything less. After a quiet supper, Thomas asked to speak with me privately in the sitting room.  
  
I followed him silently, and seated myself on the chair across from him. He stared me hard in the eyes for a solid minute before speaking. "You know, Katherine, I have noticed that you've been a bit off tonight. Anything troubling you that you would like to talk about?"  
  
I shook my head. "No, Thomas, nothing at all," I said faintly.  
  
He smiled coldly. He leaned toward me, closing the gap between us. "Splendid. I'm happy for you, glad that you're alright." His breath was hot on my face and reeked of liquor. "Not that it would make the least bit of difference, anyway. We're marrying tomorrow." I shut my eyes, trying to pretend I was somewhere else. "No matter what." He sneered and rose to leave.  
  
Taking a deep breath, I said meekly, "Thomas? I'm having... second thoughts. About the wedding."  
  
He turned sharply, eyes snapping with rage. His lips were pursed into a thin line. "What?" he hissed. "Did you just say you are having second thoughts?"  
  
I swallowed hard, and looked away. The floor reverberated beneath him as he took heavy steps toward me. A hand shot out to clasp my wrist in a vice- like grip. He yanked me to my feet and drove me hard against the wall.  
  
He still held my wrist tightly, and kept my shoulder pinned back with his other hand. His eyes blazed with fury, and his breathing was rapid. "You will voice no such thoughts to anyone. We will be wed tomorrow."  
  
My eyes were brimming with hot tears. I squeezed them tight, bottling my emotion. "No," my voice faltered, quivering. "I can't marry you," the words caught in my throat.  
  
I shot him a fleeting glance. A muscle twitched in his jaw. His hand flew up and slapped me in the face. "You will marry me," he spat. I flinched as he made a move to strike me again. He laughed coldly, releasing me. He paused in the doorway, rubbing his hand for a moment before leaving the house.  
  
Knees buckling, I tilted my head back and slid down the length of the wall. I clutched my legs to my chest, sitting in a trembling heap on the hardwood floor. The tears became too much to handle, and they leaked, hot and silent, down my cheeks. I fumbled for my handkerchief and dabbed at my eyes. Salty tears cooled on my cheeks. I realized that as much as I wanted to remain on the floor until someone found me, self pity right now would be less than helpful. I focused on breathing deeply, in and out. I struggled to my feet, enlisting the aid of the mantle. I held my head high, marching up the stairs to my bedroom, where I promptly collapsed into bed. Unmoving, I lay stiff and cold for what seemed like decades.  
  
Author's Notes: So, as you can see, I have FINALLY gotten around to writing and posting the sequel! Hooray! (I can tell you're all excited.) Anyway, I'll post the next chapter as soon as I write half of chapter 6 so I don't get stuck in that point where I post everything and then am left with nothing at all to post. (I know that made no sense, just go with it.)  
  
Review or death to you! 


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I own nothing, yada yada yada.

Chapter 2:

Long before dawn approached, I rose from my bed after a sleepless night. I rummaged through my closet quietly as to wake no one. Donning the only man's clothing I owned (which was, unfortunately, the breeches and torn tunic I had worn during my fight with Sparrow), I began climbing carefully out the window.

I was about halfway down the wall when I lost my footing and landed heavily in the bushes below me. This was only bound to add another bruise to my already colorful collection. I had discovered earlier that my wrist was an attractive shade of purple; a bruise the size and color of a rotting apple had blossomed on my cheek.

The morning sun was beginning to streak the sky with rosy light, revealing the dark shapes of ships in the harbour. One of these, no doubt, was the Black Pearl. Orange, then yellow blended into the red of the sunrise, throwing the bay into sharper relief. There was a lone man on the end of a long pier, standing with his back to me.

I approached him slowly, with caution. He must have heard my footfalls; without turning around he said, "Come along, love," and boarded the plank onto the pirate ship.

"Sparrow–"

He didn't answer right away. "Captain Sparrow, Captain, how many bloody times..."

And I couldn't help but smile quietly.

Once inside his cabin, Jack dropped into a chair, propping his feet up on his desk, before turning to me, a quizzical eyebrow raised. "Care to explain why you decided to take me up on my offer?" he asked lightly. "Wearing _that_, no less." He gestured at the torn shirt with a teasing look on his face.

I sighed. "Not that it is any of your business, but if you must know, I wasn't particularly fond of the groom." I tried to keep only the right side of my face visible to him; I didn't need him thinking I came running back to him because my fiancee hit me.

He mulled this over in his mind for a moment. "And the shirt? Not trying to seduce me now, are we?" He rose and within three broad strides was mere centimeters away from me. His voice dropped to a low, hoarse whisper. "Because it's working." A rough finger stroked my cheek, causing me to shudder.

I turned to keep him from seeing the bruise on my other cheek, shuffling awkwardly away from him. "Jack, there's no romantic future for us. So I'd appreciate it if you wouldn't do things like that."

I lifted my gaze from the grainy wood floor to see him. His voice was barely audible over the light slapping of waves against the hull. "Do things like what?" Dark eyes searched my face apprehensively before his lips drew closer to mine, barely brushing them with a soft touch.

His eyes were roaming my face once more when he pulled back. My breath was locked in my chest, rendering me immobile. He was leaning in again to steal another kiss when he noticed the bruise on my cheek. He jerked away, surprised. "Did he do that to you?" he asked abruptly.

My eyes shifted nervously. "Did who do what to me?" I asked innocently, feigning ignorance. Denial, denial, denial.

"Don't play games with me, Katherine. Did he do that to you?" He stared me down. I lost.

Clearly this was one question I couldn't evade. "Yes, alright? He hit me. So I left. I needed somewhere safe to go," I said quickly.

A mild look of amusement crossed his face, and was gone as soon as it had appeared. "You think I'm safe?"

I took as step backwards. "I didn't say that. I just knew..." I trailed off. "I just knew you wouldn't hurt me like he did. You play all sorts of havoc with my emotions, Sparrow, but you wouldn't dare hurt me physically."

He stepped forward so we were once again nearly nose to nose. He grabbed my wrists, leaning in to breathe quietly against my lips, "What makes you so sure?" before kissing me so thoroughly I felt my knees might collapse beneath me. He held more firmly onto my wrists, and pushed them above his head and down around his neck.

I winced from the pressure on my fresh bruise. I pulled my hands away from his and stepped further away from him. Hands on hips, I said firmly, "Jack, please stop acting like this. If you are going to continue to kiss me in such incredible, brain-melting ways, I'm going to have to leave. We can't have that kind of a relationship. You had your chance, and you passed it up. I only want to be a member of your crew, and make a life somewhere far away from here." I looked up, expecting to see a pained expression on his face, but instead he was smirking.

"Alright, love. If you insist. Since you're so intent on being part of the crew, I assume you'll be sleeping in their quarters?" he asked, grinning smugly.

A withering glare was all I could muster for a moment. "You know perfectly well that I will not be sharing rooms with your crew," I told him once I regained my speech.

He chuckled. "I know, love, keep your knickers on. But in all seriousness, this might not be the best voyage for you to come on."

I sat down on a wooden stool. "Why not?"

A heavy sigh escaped his lips. "We're going after treasure. Of the Isla de Muerta."

I stood up abruptly, knocking the stool over. "You're WHAT?!" I screeched. "You're an even bigger idiot than I thought!"

Sparrow blinked slowly. "I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that. Now do you want to stay on board, or what? If you do, I suggest you keep such opinions to yourself in the future. Understand?" I nodded. "If you want to be a member of this crew, you're going to work, just like one of them. You can start by making breakfast." He led me in the direction of the ship's kitchen, and set me to work making porridge for the crew.

When I brought the bubbling mass of gruel into the ship's dining quarters, a murmur of surprise went around the crew. They silenced themselves immediately, and twenty pairs of eyes followed my movement across the floor to the head of the table. Jack cleared his throat from his position in the doorframe.

The pirates immediately busied themselves with dishing the disgusting grey slop into bowls, and I made a quick exit. The minute I left, I heard one lone voice ask Jack what I was doing back on the ship. The voice didn't sound particularly thrilled to have me aboard once again. I didn't hear a reply from the captain.

Once the crew was all on deck swashing and buckling, I was put to work scouring the immense vat the porridge had been cooked in. That day and the next were spent scrubbing the deck.

The next day brought about what is possibly the most tedious and boring task ever devised to bedevil the days of man. Peeling potatoes.

After peeling a basketful of tubers, I found my way to the storeroom to retrieve another. I was crouched behind a large crate filled with bottles of rum, filling a basket with more potatoes from a sack.

I heard footsteps coming down the stairs, accompanied by hushed whispering. I peered out from behind the crate, recognizing the first mate Barbossa, Ragetti and Pintel. They were escorted by a fourth man whom I vaguely recognized but didn't have a name to place with his face.

I could barely make out what they were saying. "...This afternoon. He's already... where the island is. ...Maroon him... Sparrow will... out of our way," said the gruff voice of the first mate.

My eyes were widened with shock. "Oh my God," I whispered, unable to help myself. I clapped my hand over my mouth when they immediately stopped talking. I heard footsteps coming closer. Flattening myself back against the crate as far as I could, I tilted my head back to see that Pintel was right above me, leaning over the wooden box. He looked around, then returned to the group.

A voice I didn't recognize spoke. "Don't you think... a little extreme?" Peeking around the crate again, the unknown man was staring at his boots, wringing his hands. Barbossa glared at him.

"Are you against the mutiny, Mr. Turner?" Barbossa's voice was raised. "Would you like to be marooned with Sparrow?"

Turner coughed and shook his head. Barbossa seemed satisfied. "You are dismissed." The footsteps retreated up the stairs.

When I was sure they were all gone, I stood up, burying my face in my hands. "Well, well. What have we here?" said Barbossa from behind me.

I jumped, startled. "I... I was getting some more potatoes," I said, showing him the basket.

He eyed me warily. "I see. And you didn't hear our little conversation by chance, did you?" I shook my head emphatically. He smiled, revealing rotting teeth. "Somehow, I have trouble believing that." He drew his pistol and pointed it at me, finger on the trigger.

He called to the pirates who had just retreated. They came back down into the storeroom, all looking a little surprised to see me there. Barbossa jerked his pistol in my direction. "She's heard our conversation, gentlemen." I flinched, queasy from nerves.

A murmur went through them. The one called Turner looked nervous. "Barbossa, you surely don't mean to kill her, do you?" he asked.

Barbossa chuckled throatily. "No, I don't mean to kill her. She's going to abandon ship." Ragetti and Pintel nodded. They both came towards me, appearing to be the very essence of menacing. Before I knew what was happening, they both had a hold of me.

One grabbed my arms, the other my legs. I was soon being carried up the stairs to the deck. I thrashed violently, but the pirates held me in their iron grips. A gag was stuffed in my mouth shortly after I managed to bite Pintel in the arm. I screamed curses at them, though they went unheard, muffled by the dirty strip of cloth.

Far too soon, we were on deck, by the railings on the port side. Barbossa sent Turner up to keep Jack distracted. Pintel and Ragetti proceeded to swing me up and over the side.

Down, down I fell into that choppy blue expanse. I landed the waves, sending up a massive splash. I sank downward, further and further into the cool water, trying to fight my way up into the air above me. My head broke the surface, and I breathed in the water that my gag had absorbed. Treading water, I struggled to untie the cloth. Flailing about, I waved at the retreating ship, shouting for Jack. It was hopeless.


End file.
